Sugar Bullets
by Ghost-Tongued
Summary: For the reader: This is a HIRUMA/MAMORI Kink Meme that is based on the given prompts by others. Would you like to have one of your prompts written? Then please leave a review or PM for me with your prompt and kink! Will eventually be rated under "M" when I submit one of the kinks.
1. Pillows

**Character Pairings:** Hiruma/Mamori  
**Genre:** Romance/Drama/Humor  
**Rating:** T - MA+  
**Warnings:** Profanity; Bad Humor  
**Disclaimers:** I don't own anything Eyeshield 21  
**  
Recommendation(s):  
**_Page Width_: Keep story's width at "3/4"; adjustment settings are at the top-right corner of the site, where the different font styles and sizes are located. "3/4" is the original width that this story was written in.

_Light/Dark:_ This chapter is best read on the** light** background setting.

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**Author's Note: **_Sugar Bullets_is a collection of prompts I responded to during the Hiruma/Mamori Kink Meme in the Hirumamo Livejournal community. While I will be adding what I've already written, I plan on responding to those that I neglected, as well as the "personal kink meme" based on Hiruma/Mamori. Guess, what that means? You guys get to give me your own prompts for me to respond to.

I want to use this as an opportunity to help inspire my writing again, and I'd like you guys to participate! All you have to do is review or PM me with a vague **prompt** that you'd like to see me take my personal spin on. The **kink **is a specific thought/situation/dialogue/etc. you want written in, regardless of how the prompt is taken.

* * *

**For Bar_Ohki:  
The Prompt:** Pillows and one of Hiruma's electrical devices.  
**The Kink:** Use of pillows.  
**The Rating: **Any; just no rape.

* * *

She paused, glancing up. Behind her, she could hear the commotion caused by a rowdy pillow fight through the wall, and a small smile bloomed across her lips.

_"Die, Senaaa!_"

_"HIIIE!"_

_"YA-A! The night before the decisive match against America – a huge pillow fight tournament!"_

_"Ano . . . is it really alright to do this . . . ?"_

_"Yes. I think this is suitable. A moderate warm-up and then going to bed early before the match is optimal."_

_"HIEEE! A scary Trident Pillow!"_

She pressed a hand to her lips, stifling a giggle as she heard the boys play around in the adjacent room, shouting out taunts mixed with battle cries and triumphant bellows.

Shaking her head, still smiling, she tuned out the uproar and settled deeper into her own thick, fluffy pillows. Well, not hers – Hiruma-kun's.

She looked back down at the laptop, open and balanced in her crossed-legged lap, absently surfing the Internet as she waited for its owner to return.

. . . She pursed her lips a little, feeling a familiar prickling of irritation as she recalled him coolly ordering her to stay in his room and guard his things while he went out. He had looked good, dressed in a crisp, black business suit and slacks, the dark shade bringing out the fair tone of his skin and the electric-blond of his hair. But his appearance had nothing to soothe her mild indignation caused be his ever lack of manners. Not using "please" at the end of his "request" had been one thing, but it hadn't helped matters when he'd just turned and walked out, deftly ignoring her question as to where he was going.

"Hmph," she grumbled. Really, was it _that_ difficult to be polite once in a while? Sure, she would have done whatever he wanted . . . but it would have been nice to hear him actually _ask_ rather than _demand_.

She glanced up when she heard a soft clicking, and saw the bronze doorknob twist before the door itself was pushed open, revealing the Devil himself.

She smiled in greeting, but she was promptly disregarded as the spiky-haired quarterback kicked the door closed behind him and sauntered across the room toward the room's dresser, long, tapered fingers loosening his tie while the other hand pulled his shirt from his pants and belt.

While quietly watching him, she was suddenly struck by the image of a husband coming home from a long day at the office, his wife waiting for him with a warm smile and open arms, ready to hear all about it.

She choked, utterly astounded and bewildered, her eyes widening.

"Oi."

Her face burning lightly from a blush, she hesitantly looked up. Her blush flared hotter. He was standing at the foot of the bed, eyeing her inspectively as he lazily dragged his tie from his neck, appearing handsomely unkempt with his unbuttoned sleeve cuffs, untucked dress shirt, and open suit jacket.

Clearing her throat, she quietly powered off the laptop and closed it with a soft _click_.

"I guess . . . I'll head out now," she murmured, placing the transportable computer on the nightstand and scooched herself off the high-sitting bed. She was consciously aware that she was in just her simple, duck-printed pajamas while he stood not even feet away, ready to strip down completely. "G'night, Hiruma-kun."

"Tch. Whatever."

She stilled and her lips thinned. She glanced over her shoulder, a small glare creeping up into her eyes, watching as he took a seat on the bed, facing his back to her as he bent down to untie the laces to his shoes, no doubt.

"Aren't you going to say 'thank you' at least?" she inquired softly, her crystal-blue eyes narrowing and her chin lifting slightly in defiance.

When he just ignored her, tossing off one shoe and then going for the other, she felt a hot ball of anger form in the pit of her belly. Ooo, how _rude!_ The _brute_, never showing any gratitude for _anything_ that she did! Why, she'd box those grotesquely strange ears of his if she hadn't been so sure that he'd put said action in his extortion book! Maybe she could just push him right off the edge of the bed instead? Yeah, that'd be good – make him fall right on that butt that sorely deserved a well-aimed kick!

_Or_ . . .

Fairly vibrating with her repressed frustration, she silently stalked back up to the bed, snatched up one of the thick pillows in both hands, reared it back . . . and then threw all her weight into her swing, the pillow smacking the ungrateful man upside the head with a satisfyingly solid impact.

A startled curse bounced off the walls followed closely by a heavy _thud_ when the broad-shouldered captain tumbled off the bed and onto the floor.

Smiling pleasantly, suddenly feeling much better, she turned on her heel and walked back to the door, calling out again cheerily, "Good night, Hiruma-kun!" She then closed the door securely behind her, her smile turning haughty and triumphant.

She would have to remember to thank the boys in the morning. After all, who knew hitting someone with a pillow would feel so good?


	2. Heartbreaker

**Character Pairings:** Hiruma/Mamori  
**Genre:** Romance/Drama/Humor  
**Rating:** T - MA+  
**Warnings:** Profanity; Bad Humor  
**Disclaimers:** I don't own anything Eyeshield 21  
**  
Recommendation(s):  
**_Page Width_: Keep story's width at "3/4"; adjustment settings are at the top-right corner of the site, where the different font styles and sizes are located. "3/4" is the original width that this story was written in.

_Light/Dark:_ This chapter is best read on the** light** background setting.

* * *

**For HelloSugah:  
The Prompt:** "Heartbreaker" by Lou Bonnevie  
**The Kink:** Mamori or her girl-friends try to talk her out of her attraction for Hiruma.  
**The Rating:** Any; some humor (like wild accusations about Hiruma's notorious deeds, true or wild rumors :P

* * *

"Mamori . . . no. Oh, no, Mamori!"

"You . . . you can't possibly! No, Mamori, think about what you're _saying!"_

She bit her lip, glancing away from the anxious and horrified expressions of Ako and Sara, her gaze absently taking in the surroundings. It was a nice day out out in the school's picnic area, the air cool and breezes soft and skies lightly overcast. The trees towering over their table shameless flaunted their beautiful autumn colors. Occasionally, a few of the heat-toned foliage would float down and land on the table and around their neglected lunches.

"He's . . . he's _crazy_, Mamori!" Ako hissed, leaning in closer, her eyes wide behind her round spectacles. "He's mean and cruel and selfish, not to mention strange looking! How can you even _think_ of liking someone like that?"

"And what about all the rumors, Mamo-nee?" Sara squeaked, scooting closer and trying to peer into her eyes, her own wide and confused. "I hear he truly is a slave owner, having eight people brainwashed and completely under his control! I hear that he uses the women anyway he pleases and beats the men on a daily basis and then locks them all up in this hidden dungeon every night!"

"Oh, that's ridiculous!" She gawked at her friend, wondering how she could ever believe such a rumor. Really now, Hiruma's 'control' over others only went as far as the amount and extremity of the blackmail he dug up. Which would probably explain why she never truly felt controlled by him, photos of her in a cheerleading outfit or not.

"That _is_ ridiculous!" Ako declared.

She felt herself smiling in appreciation.

"I mean, geez, Sara," she continued. "_Everybody_ knows he's a smuggler for the black market!"

She groaned and dropped her head. So much for that . . .

"I hear he's even known to kill off any serious competition!"

"Oh, yeah? Well, I hear he's a ringleader in a drug gang!"

"What? That's stupid! When have you ever seen him doing drugs? I don't think I've ever seen him smoke cigarette!"

"Um, like, hello? You don't have to sample the merchandise to be a drug dealer, Ako!"

Sighing softly, she turned gaze away again and rested her chin in her hand, tuning her friends out as they settled into an argument of which rumor was likely true.

A soft breeze encircled her, playfully teasing her newly styled hair, her uneven bangs tickling her nose and cheek. She watched the other first and second-year students sitting around the schoolyard, laughing and chatting and just overall having a wonderful time as they enjoyed their small break of free time.

But she just couldn't share in the carefree atmosphere. In fact, she felt lonely and even a bit depressed. Confessing to her friends that she might actually be harboring soft feelings for Deimon High's frightening electric-blond extortionist had not been a mistake. She felt lighter because of it, actually. She just wished they had been a bit more supporting rather than immediately rejecting the admission by bringing up such outrageous and untrue rumors.

_'You used to believe some of those rumors . . .'_

She felt a knot of guilt sit like a stone in her belly. It was true . . .

But it was so much different now. She was able to see him for who he actually was: a passionate and optimistic man with willpower as strong as steel, a genius mind that was always ten steps ahead and various skills and talents that made him more dangerous and frightening than his temper and the blackmail he could whip out on you in a heartbeat.

And she was crushing on him.

She was crushing on Deimon High's gum-chewing, gun-toting, vulgarity-spitting quarterback, and mercy help her, she was crushing _hard_.

But that hadn't been what made her need to confess into such a dire situation. After all, she didn't want biased people telling her to just leave him alone because they believed the rumors, and she didn't want biased people like Suzuna encouraging her to pursue him because they believed they were a match since the very beginning.

She wanted someone to give the pros and cons of her predicament and to give advice on how to work with it.

She wanted someone to argue or confirm her own questions: She should tell him? How would he even react to such a thing? Would he reject her, mock her, ignore her? Would it be mutual? Could he possibly hold some sort of feelings for her, too? Was there a way to tell if he does? What would they do then if he did? Date? Become official? Would he want to go public? Just how happy would she be with him in the long-run?

Because she needed order and discipline in her life, and he . . . well, he was such a wildcard – untamable . . .

_"Oi, fucking manager!"_

She blinked, startled, and looked around, her heart immediately upping its tempo at the familiar nickname and the slightly rasped voice that had shouted it.

She spotted him on the opposite end of the schoolyard, near the steps that lead back into the building. Even from her distance, she could see the irritated frown on his sharp, handsome features, his stance lazy and cool with one hand tucked into his pants' pocket and the other holding his book bag tossed over his shoulder.

Her friends gasped and stopped their chattering, as did everyone else. A tense, wary silence had fallen like a bomb over the schoolyard, but she paid it no mind.

"Coming, Hiruma-kun!" she called back, her smile genuine and bright. Getting up and grabbing her things into her arms, she quickly excused herself from her friends and began jogging after him as he turned and started walking ahead.

She was sure her smile was betraying all her secrets to him and everyone who saw, but she just couldn't help it.

Especially when there was hope blooming in her chest that he might actually have similar feelings for her . . . being that she never could figure out why he insisted on walking her to the clubhouse.

He always had to go out of his way to come from the other end of the school just to do it.


End file.
